Sarah vs the Hundredth Second Chance
by mxmoo
Summary: Sarah makes her choice at the end of 3.12 and now she must deal with the consequences.
1. Chapter 1

**mxpw Author's Note**: As you can clearly see that the size of this chapter is barely bigger than a piece of double ply toilet paper, it was obviously written by **malamoo**. Which makes sense, as she is the Sham lover, after all. Anyway, some of you may be wondering what gives, a Sham story? Well, this may have a difficult beginning, but it's not really a Sham story. Don't worry, no matter how much she begs me, I won't let moo turn it into one.

This fic is an experiment of sorts, between me and moo. We will be alternating chapters and/or characters. Next chapter, I'm up. It's our therapy, our way of dealing with how this season has disappointed us as Chuck fans. I hope you enjoy!

**malamoo Author's Note**: Ah, this is what happens when your writing partner is practically nocturnal. How can I defend myself? All season I've been struggling to understand what goes through Sarah's head, what makes her decide to do the crazy things she does, and this is a reconciliation of sorts. I'd like to thank **altonish **who still agreed to tweak a scene for me despite objections to the premise and **DLK **for helping me add characterization to a block of wood. It's not as easy as it seems, guys!

Disclaimer: We don't own Chuck.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 1: **

"Oh, that poor thing."

Sarah flinches when she hears the words. She stops mid-step, almost afraid she'd recognize the women speaking, but manages at the last second to regain control of her senses and continue across the dining room back to her seat.

"I know. It's so tragic, isn't it?" the other woman at the table responds.

Sarah hesitates again. They're not talking about her, they couldn't be, but their words touch a nerve. This time she doesn't catch herself fast enough and the women at the table turn to look at her. Sarah hurriedly looks the other way to avoid their looks of disapproval; eavesdropping was still very faux pas.

She begins to head towards her seat again, slower now.

_Be reasonable,_ she tells herself. There's no way those women could be talking about her.

But why then did it feel like every pair of eyes in the room was directed squarely at her?

Sarah nervously fidgets with a stray strand of hair. _Be reasonable,_ she tells herself again. It's not possible for them to see through to the insecure, neurotic mess she's kept bottled inside. She's a good actress, some say the best, and she's dressed for her part tonight. It's just not possible.

Agent Sarah Walker leaves her then and suddenly she's just...well...she's not entirely sure who she is any more. Did Sam still like the things that Sarah did?

"Hey, you okay?" A hand gently touches hers and she flinches. Sarah blinks. She has no memory of it but somehow she's drifted back to her table.

She shakes her head to clear her jumbled thoughts. "Fine," she says. She's feeling theatrical tonight so she throws him a smile as she takes her seat. "What are you having?"

"I've already ordered for us. Appetizers should be coming out soon."

Sarah's smile wavers. "Oh." She realizes much to her disappointment that they've already taken away the menus. "I was going to order a hamburger."

Her date frowns. "Here? This isn't McDonalds, Sam—"

"Sarah."

He frowns again and Sarah feels like she's said something wrong. Like he knows her better than she knows herself.

"I'd prefer it if you called me Sarah," she clarifies.

He doesn't say anything about that. He's the strong silent type but he's also the type to take control. Wasn't that what drew her to him in the first place?

Prague had left her world spinning, and all she wanted was something to hold onto. Was it wrong to act in self-preservation?

She examines her poor over bitten fingernails to avoid making eye contact. "It was all a big mistake."

"What?"

"Telling you my name." She swallows slowly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have done that."

"Why?"

"It was inappropriate to burden you with that."

What she really means is that it was far too intimate a detail to share with someone...anyone. She feels like she's given something away that she can't get back.

He shrugs, his expression permanently calm and fixed. "Sorry, I thought you wanted to share with me."

"I did," Sarah hedges. "Just..." She pauses for a moment. "It's okay that you know, I just don't want it getting around. Keep it to yourself, you know?"

Shaw looks at her. "You're upset that Bartowski found out, aren't you?"

Sarah inhales quickly. "Yes," she agrees. It wasn't entirely true though. She'd very much wanted to tell him...but not like that. It was supposed to have been a moment between them. It was supposed to be an important moment of trust. She'd been ready in Prague and now...

"Sarah."

Sarah stirs and realizes she's missed a vital part of the conversation. "I'm sorry?"

He frowns again. "Haven't you been listening? What did I just say?"

"Um…what did I just say?" She manages a weak smile but he's not buying it.

"Before that."

"What did I just say?" It's not wrong but it's not right either.

What light there was in Shaw's eyes, they're extinguished now. "Is there somewhere else you'd rather be?"

There's the tone again.

Sarah smiles brightly and her cheek muscles strain at the unfamiliar expression. "No. No, of course not."

She no longer has anywhere else to go. In choosing Shaw she's burned all other bridges and moved herself across the continent to avoid something more frightening—

You have to risk big to win big and quite frankly after Prague, it was easier to take a scorched earth approach than to try to rebuild something from the ashes.

_Fool me once..._ that's what her father taught her. There wasn't going to be a second time.

"Are you nervous about this Rome assignment?"

Sarah shakes her head. "No." She keeps her voice steady so he won't be able to detect the undercurrent of excitement.

She's learned to be careful around him. It's better not to start another fight, especially when she's about to leave soon.

"I hear your old friend is stationed there."

"Carina?" Sarah asks, feigning innocence. "Is she? I guess I'll have to give her a call then."

He doesn't say much, this man of hers, and his expressions say even less but Sarah has a clear idea of his opinions when it came to her friend.

"Well it's important to think of the job first. This isn't some social trip."

Sarah nods, deflating a little. "I know," she says. "I've been doing this for awhile."

He sighs. "I know. And I know you're good at your job, but I feel I need to remind you—"

"Business first," Sarah finishes. "I got it." She swallows to keep the bitterness from rising to her throat; he's only reminding her because he cares.

Shaw's expression shifts ever so slightly. "Oh, good, the appetizers are here."

The waiter serves them Greek salad on a silver plate and Sarah's appetite dissipates.

Sarah hates olives. She's pretty sure Sam hates them too.

* * *

They walk out of the restaurant together but not really. Sarah keeps her hands in her coat pockets and Shaw walks ahead to get the car. She steals a glance over her shoulder just before she steps out, and she swears the two women from the other table are watching her.

_That poor thing. _

_So tragic. _

Sarah shakes her head and walks out to wait by the curb. There's absolutely no reason she should feel this way. The fast-paced job, the handsome boyfriend, the generous expense account. What's not to love? She's sure there are hundreds of women who'd give an arm and a leg to be in her very expensive shoes.

But she's not one of them. Ah, but isn't the grass always greener on the other side?

Shaw's car pulls around the corner and she gets in.

The ride is quiet, even more quiet than is usual.

"Is something wrong?" she asks, and the second it leaves her lips, she knows she's made a mistake. Now she's clearly asking for it.

Shaw doesn't look at her but from his profile she can see the way his strong jaw appears locked. "I've told you before. I'd prefer it if you dressed with a bit more modesty."

The reprimand stings. Sarah feels like she's five years old again and when she looks down at herself, she can't see where she went wrong. It's just a dress and a pair of heels. She can't help it if she doesn't want to wear a wimple and a sweater on a date.

"The waiter was practically staring down your chest," he accuses.

"It's not like I asked him to," she says. It's a humid summer evening but the car couldn't have felt colder.

"You certainly didn't discourage him," Shaw retorts. "I remind you that when you're off duty, you don't have to seduce every male in the vicinity."

Sarah bristles but she doesn't retaliate. His words sting but it's not the first time. Everyone has their faults, and isn't that what love is?

Sometimes the realization confuses her. Love has felt different every time—with Bryce, with Chuck, and now Shaw; so when was it real and when was it just a fling?

* * *

He apologizes when they get back to the apartment. It's succinct and adequate.

"I'm sorry. I just care about you too much."

He recognizes that he's out of line but that's the way he is. There's no promise for change and Sarah would be asking too much if she did; after all, hadn't she wanted someone who would always be the way they were?

She says the only thing she can. "It's alright."

He wraps his arm around her; strong, possessive, and she falls into his embrace. She closes her eyes and it feels so safe here, like no one could ever hurt her, that for a moment, all her doubts disappear.

She has someone who will always be there for her. Who loves her. Who won't ever change on her.

What more does she want?

"I don't want our last conversation to be an argument," he says.

Sarah nods in agreement even though they never argue—not really. She never lets it get that far because she's willing to give an inch, a foot, everything. After all, isn't that what you're supposed to do for the one you love?

He kisses her gently on the brow and pulls away to get ready for bed.

Sarah packs her things, checks her itinerary, and waits for him to finish before locking herself in the washroom. She takes her time, spends ten entire minutes just staring at her reflection and wondering who the hell is staring back at her, and how many more years she has before her features lose their charm.

It's something she's been wondering a lot these days.

When she steps out, he's waiting for her.

He kisses her and she thinks to herself that it's only one more night, and he deserves this. It'll lessen the physical separation between them.

She lets his hands roam across her body, and even though it's a little uncomfortable she doesn't tell him. Shaw's as handsome as they come, and the sex is pleasant, but it's more a ritual than anything else. She wouldn't be much of a girlfriend if she didn't oblige him one last time before flying halfway across the globe.

When he finishes, he kisses her on the cheek and bids her goodnight. Sarah nods and draws the sheets tighter against her chest.

She feels this would be an appropriate opportunity for tears. No one would judge, not tonight, but she can't. Because even if no one else knew the truth, she would, and she's too damn proud to admit it.

She's made her bed and now she has to lie in it.


	2. Chapter 2

**malamoo's A/N:** thank you for the reviews, 12 for a sham fic. that's like a record, right? =) This is our first true collaborative chapter, enjoy!

**mxpw's A/N: **Y'all should thank **moo** that she's here to hold my hand or else I'd be completely lost in a story like this. Anyway, I had a looooot of fun writing this chapter. But then it has one of my favorite characters so that was a given. Thanks to everyone who reviewed! This story may be dark and depressing for a while, but I promise it won't be that way always, no matter how much she bleats at me to let her write angst.

* * *

**Chapter 2: **

He says all the right things when he sees her off at the airport.

Be safe.

Call me when you get there.

I love you.

She mimes them back. I know. Of course. Me too.

But they are just words. Sarah realizes they are cut from the same cloth; emotions are things to be stored away, not polished and put out on display. They'll never be that couple kissing passionately in the middle of the street unless it's all an act.

People can't hurt you without leverage, and they can't have leverage if you never give anything away.

They kiss briefly before she goes through the gate and she thinks she'll miss him.

That's a good sign, right?

That means that she's made the right decision after all.

The realization makes her smile and Shaw smiles back.

"Call me when you touch down," he reminds.

"I thought you had a meeting this afternoon."

He doesn't seem fazed in the least. His expression remains the same as it's always been. "Call me," he says, and grips her shoulder for emphasis.

Sarah sighs quietly under her breath. "Fine."

* * *

Sarah sleeps better in economy class than she has in months.

No nightmares, no haunted memories. Just darkness and silence.

When she opens her eyes it all still feels like a dream. This morning she was still in DC with Shaw and now an ocean divides them.

A weight feels like it's been lifted off her chest but the relief is only temporary. It takes only a moment before the guilt descends.

As she's leaving the plane, one of the flight attendants touches her arm and asks if she's feeling alright.

She puts on a familiar mask and says the first thing that comes to mind.

"Never better."

* * *

Sarah knows she's not alone before she even opens the hotel room door. She sighs, swipes her key card and enters anyway.

"The least you could do is turn on the light," she says as she flicks the switch. The room becomes bathed in harsh fluorescent lighting but somehow her friend seems immune to its ill effects.

"Now where would the fun be in that?" the redhead quips, slinking out of the chair. Carina Miller appears immune to the effects of time as well, a fact that irks Sarah. It's just not fair.

Moving with feline grace, Carina stalks up to Sarah and smirks. "Miss me?" she asks.

Sarah smiles and she's relieved to give up the act. "Terribly."

She hugs her friend and is overcome by a sudden urge to burst into tears. She shakes her head. When did she become so emotional?

The hug ends too soon. Carina moves half a step back and takes on a scrutinizing stance, complete with that slight tilt of the hips and disapproving crossed arms. Sarah feels the redhead's eyes scan her body from head to toe and the final verdict isn't pleasant.

Carina frowns. "You look awful."

Sarah immediately bristles. The affection and comfort Carina's presence had brought dissipates, and it feels like all the air's been sucked out of the room.

"It was a long flight," she says and avoids Carina's glare.

Her friend is unconvinced. "Not that long."

Sarah turns around and walks further into the room, depositing her suitcase at the end of her bed and emptying the contents of her pockets onto the nightstand. "Why are you here?" she asks quietly. There's no need to delve into her poor personal appearance; it will only lead down unpleasant avenues.

Carina shrugs and waves her hand dismissively. "The same reason you are."

"No, I know that," Sarah says with just the slightest hint of annoyance. She's not in the mood to entertain her friend's cloying nature. "Why are you _stationed_ here?"

Carina looks at her sharply. Try as Sarah might, she can't help the suspicious nature of her question. It's simply too big a coincidence that Carina has chosen Rome for her base of operations.

"Oh, that," Carina says. The redhead glides back to her chair and sits down. She purses her lips and stares at Sarah steadily. "I believe you already know the answer to that question."

Sarah says nothing and it's probably better that way. What is there left to say?

It was a part of her life that she'd put behind her. That door had closed; it was over and done with. And yet, in the midst of all her denials, the question slips free.

"How is he?" She grimaces as soon as she realizes what she's done. If she knows Carina (and she does), then she has just dumped chum in the water.

Carina gives her a thin smile and says, "Oh Casey? Casey's doing great. I'll be sure to let him know you asked about him."

Sarah closes her eyes in frustration. She should have known better, she really should have. Now that the genie is out of the bottle, Carina is going to make her work for it.

_Just let it go!_

If only it were that easy. This isn't the first time the voice in her head's screamed at her and it's certainly not going to be the last.

_Just forget it. Move on. Don't think about it anymore. _

As with all things, it sounds easier in theory than it does in practice. And maybe, just maybe, the awful truth is that she doesn't want to.

"Carina, just tell me."

She still can't say his name out loud.

"To be honest, I'm not even sure why you care." Carina speaks rather flippantly but there is an underlying edge to her tone that makes Sarah stand a little straighter.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Carina ignores the question. "Are you still with that log?"

"Daniel isn't a log."

Carina raises one perfectly sculpted eyebrow and snorts. "That dinner we had last time I was in DC was the most boring night of my life and I spend most of my days filling out quarterly expense reports for the Ambassador and his staff." She shakes her head. "I don't know how you can stand it. I'd rather stab myself in the ear with a letter opener than go on a second dinner date."

Sarah blanches at the mental image and tries to occupy her mind with something slightly more pleasant, like unpacking her suitcase. She turns around and begins to put away her things.

"Daniel is a man of few words," she reminds as a last resort. "That's just how he is, Carina."

Carina bursts out in laughter and Sarah clenches the shirts in her hand. "God, I can only imagine what the sex between you is like. Tell me, do you even manage to stay awake for most of it, however brief it might be?"

Sarah's face flushes with anger and humiliation but she tries to hide it in her work. "I'm not discussing my sex life with you, Carina."

"You _do_ fuck him, don't you?" Carina asks. "I'd hate to think you abandoned Chuckles and you weren't even getting laid out of the deal."

The socks in Sarah's hand fall to the ground unnoticed. She can take the jabs about Shaw, she can take the jabs about her appearance but this is one thing she's not going to let Carina get away with.

She turns on her friend and feels sorely tempted to pelt her with the first hard object she can dig out of her suitcase.

"I didn't abandon him!" she snarls.

The attack only makes Carina smirk. "Huh, so there is still some life in you, after all," she says. "I was starting to wonder if you had the same stick up your ass that your boyfriend does."

Carina rises to her feet and shakes her head. "Seriously, I have no idea what you see in him. Sure he looks good but he's just so…_boring_." Carina's face sours, like she's just bitten into a lemon.

Sarah's phone suddenly vibrates on the nightstand as if he somehow knew, even from thousands of miles away, that they were talking about him. Early in their relationship, she was almost positive that Shaw had bugged her somehow, but that paranoia has faded over time. Still…

"Aren't you going to get that?" Carina asks when Sarah doesn't even look in its general direction.

"Sarah?"

Sarah sighs and knows she might as well get this over with. She leaves her suitcase and walks over, picks up the phone and turns her back to her friend. It doesn't make a bit of difference, but she figures at least then she won't have to face the firing squad from both fronts.

"Hello?"

"Where are you? You were supposed to call when the plane landed."

Sarah rubs her temples. "I'm sorry. I forgot. I didn't want to wake you."

Shaw is obsessive when it comes to semantics. "You forgot or you didn't want to wake me?"

Sarah bites her tongue. "I'm sorry," she says again, trying not to sound pathetic and failing.

He grunts, meaning this isn't going to be brushed under the rug anytime soon. "Where are you now?"

"I'm in my hotel room."

"Are you _alone_?" The tone seems to indicate anything but.

His doubt almost makes Sarah want to snap some kind of caustic remark. Did he think so little of her that he already expected her to be spreading her legs for the first man she ran into?

Sarah holds her tongue though. There's no point starting a cross-continental argument and frankly she doesn't have the energy for it. It's not worth it.

"Yes." Sarah turns around and gives a pleading look to Carina. She's not sure what she's pleading for: understanding, some way out of phone call, help? To Carina's credit, she hasn't made a sound since Sarah picked up the phone, but the displeasure is obvious on her face.

Shaw grunts.

"It was a long flight and I'm very tired. I'll call you later?"

He accepts all her lies and excuses and Sarah quickly ends the call before Carina decides to make mischief. Unfortunately, that doesn't preclude the inevitable conversation they're about to have.

"That's who you left Chuck for?" The disbelief on Carina's face makes a pit form in Sarah's stomach. She feels the first signs of a migraine; what she needs now are a couple aspirin and a couple shots of whiskey. She just woke from a ten hour flight and all she wants to do is sleep again.

"For the last time, I didn't leave Chuck." Sarah quickly throws the rest of her things into the hotel dresser.

He made his decision; she made hers. Sarah massages her temples.

"That's not the way he tells it."

Sarah grits her teeth. Whose side was she on anyway?

"Did you consider maybe he was lying?"

Carina boggles at her and laughs in disbelief. "You're accusing Chuck—Chuck _Bartowski_—of being a liar?"

Sarah shrugs. "He's a spy now, isn't he?"

"Chuck is no spy." Carina fiddles with the hem of her shirt, her eyes on the floor. "I mean, not really. Not like us."

"What does that mean?"

"You'd know that if you bothered to give him half a chance."

"He changed," Sarah says. Simple as that. She can doubt everything else in her life but this was one absolute truth she's depended on.

After all, if she was wrong and Chuck was still Chuck, the Chuck she had fallen for, wouldn't that mean she's just wasted the last nine months of her life? That she had betrayed them, given up on them? Sarah shakes her head. She refuses to believe she could have made a mistake. She'd seen him kill with her very own eyes. And even when she confronted him about it, he'd never denied it.

No.

She made the right decision.

Carina is still sceptical. "He seems like the same nerd to me."

"He's not."

"What did he do?"

"He never told you?" Now this was a surprise.

Carina shrugs her shoulders and sits down on the bed. "Not really, no. All he'll say is that he screwed up and you left."

Sarah sits down beside Carina. Her response was unexpected and she feels an oppressing weight settling on her chest. It was just like the old Chuck to take all the blame and assign her none.

A warm hand lands on her shoulder and squeezes gently. "It's okay, Sarah, you can tell me."

Sarah takes a deep breath. "He killed somebody," she whispers.

The room grows quiet for several seconds, before it's disrupted by the ringing laughter of the redhead sitting beside her. "Come on, Sarah," Carina says with a laugh. "Be serious. I really want to know."

Carina stares at her, waiting, and with every second of her friend's mocking gaze, Sarah feels the resentment begin to grow. She contemplates all the different ways she can make that judgemental smirk disappear. How dare she laugh? The night of Chuck's Red Test was one of the worst moments of her life.

"Oh my God, you're serious," Carina says. She feels the bed shift as her friend stands up. "That's why you left him?"

Sarah shakes her head, refusing to look up at her friend. She won't give her the satisfaction of seeing her plead for the conversation to stop. "You don't understand."

Carina clucks her tongue in obvious disapproval. "You're right, I don't. You know why? Because it's completely insane!"

"Shut up."

Sarah looks up now, eyes blazing. She doesn't have to take this, least of all from somebody like Carina.

"Shut up," she growls.

Carina seems completely unfazed by her growing anger. If anything, her anger simply spurs Carina on further. "Christ, Sarah, of all the hypocritical…" Carina trails off before refocusing. "You do realize that you're dating somebody who's killed more people than I've fucked, right?"

Sarah stands up and squares off against Carina. She hasn't come all the way to Rome just so she can be berated in her own hotel room by her only friend. She knows she doesn't owe Carina or anyone else an explanation for her actions, but she can't help snapping back.

"It's not the same. Chuck was different! He was better."

"He's a man, not a doll you can break out of its box and play with whenever your daddy issues start acting up."

Sarah slaps her before the words even die in her ears. Carina flinches but doesn't back away or retaliate. In fact, it's her friend's reticence to strike back that extinguishes Sarah's anger almost immediately.

She's never struck her friend and really meant it before.

"I'm sorry. That was a little uncalled for." Sarah takes a deep breath. "Just…shut up. _Please_," she pleads.

"Fine." Carina's face is red, the mark left by her hand livid and accusing. "I need to get going anyway."

Sarah sucks in a huge lungful of air and tries to smile. Despite everything Carina was her only friend; she didn't want things to end on a sour note.

"Hot date?" she teases. She tries to laugh, to lighten the oppressing atmosphere of the room, but Carina's brisk manner makes her nervous. She can't lose her only friend.

"Actually, yeah," Carina says. "Chuck is expecting me."

Sarah freezes and everything follows. She stops moving, stops thinking, even breathing. Everything.

Carina wouldn't.

She knows that Carina likes taking what she wants, that there's always been a push and pull to their relationship, a constant antagonism that always leaves her somewhat dreading their next meeting, but not even Carina would stoop this low.

"What the hell does that mean?" she asks in a low tone. The meaning is clear; enough with the jokes.

"What do you think? We're sleeping together." Carina shrugs her shoulders and looks like she had just said that the weather was nice.

The smug smile, the flippant words, it's more than Sarah can take. She acts without thinking and the punch sends Carina tumbling to the floor.

No one is more surprised than Sarah. She stares at the offending limb and wishes she can take back the last five seconds.

"I'm sorry," she says again, even though she's not really. She's apologetic to see Carina bloodied but she'd been asking for it.

Carina winces and gingerly probes her jaw with a slender finger. Her tongue darts out and licks the blood off her lips and she looks up at Sarah with stormy gray eyes. Sarah recognizes that look, knows that Carina desperately wants to attack—

_Do it. I deserve it. _

Sarah wouldn't even defend herself; she has it coming. But Carina doesn't. Instead, she looks up at her and smirks. "Honestly, what did you expect? That he would stay alone and wait forever while you have your fun with Mr. Log?" Carina climbs to her feet and adjusts her clothing. "He needed comforting and I was more than willing to help."

Sarah's mind is a jumbled mess. She has no right to feel the way she does but she can't remember ever feeling so betrayed. Carina knew how she felt about Chuck; she knew what he meant to her.

"I can't believe that you would do this to me," Sarah says quietly. Trying to keep herself together is a losing battle and now the tears have marched to the forefront.

Carina glares sharply at her. "I did nothing to you," she reminds. "You made your decision. I really have no idea why you're taking things so badly. You've got Shaw now and I've got Chuck. Everyone gets what they want." Carina walks to the door and opens it. Before she leaves, she looks over her shoulder and says, "I should probably thank you. Chuck is amazing. He's not too shabby out of bed either."

The words are like poison and the barbs dig deep; Sarah feels absolutely ill.

"Friends?" Carina sends her one last smug look before she's out the door. Of course they're still friends; as upset as Sarah is now, she'd rather have one friend than none. Just as she would rather stay with someone, anyone, than spend the rest of her life alone.

Sarah sits alone at the end of her bed and stares at the floor. She has no idea what to think. She's not even sure why she cares. Carina's right. He made a choice and then she made hers.

Sarah lost a colleague about three months back in Managua. He was a good man. She got into a fight with Shaw when she wanted to cancel their vacation plans so she could attend the funeral. It was fair, she supposed, she hadn't known him all that well and the man had his own family.

Shaw was right. She was just an outsider. His family didn't even know what he really did for a living.

She didn't cry, not really. Not when she discovered his cold, stiff body in the abandoned warehouse; not when she made the detached phone call back to DC, not even when Shaw saw her emotional reaction to his death as unbecoming of an agent.

She didn't cry when he forgot her birthday a month later; even though he's the only one who knows when it really is. Birthdays were immaterial, she knew, irrelevant. They're only reminders of a past life better left forgotten.

She didn't cry when she got the note about the law catching up with her father. At least Shaw had cared enough to let her know. That had to mean something, right?

She doesn't even allow herself tears all those nights in DC when she's alone but not really alone.

But Sarah cries now.


	3. Chapter 3

**mxpw Author's Note: **So...sorry for the week-long wait. I'm trying to speed up my writing process so that I don't turn my back one day and find a serrated blade buried in me. Those wily Canadians, they don't like being kept waiting. As you'll probably be able to tell once you start reading, the bulk of this chapter was written by the ridiculously talented **moo**. Can you tell which part was me?

Thank you so much for all of your wonderful reviews. The second chapter doubled the review count of the first chapter. It's awesome to see that you guys appreciate what we've written. You guys are all awesome!

Oh, and can you believe she actually trusted me enough to post without giving it one last read-over? I know, craziness. But that's why you don't see an A/N from her here.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter 3: **

_Sarah worries about her looks when she's nervous. It's only natural; her appearance holds a lot of value in this line of work. A coquettish smile can loosen lips, a sparkling pair of eyes can pierce even the thickest armor and a well-placed hand can distract from even the most obvious snares. _

_Sarah Walker is very good at using what she has. Unfortunately, she's also a flighty character; when things get shaky she turns tail. That too is only natural; Sarah Walker is a survivor. _

_Sam is not. Sam's insecure and awkward and no one would want her. That's why she had to be left behind if Sarah was ever going to experience an emotion that held some semblance to love. And every time Sarah Walker leaves, she's reminded of how desperately she needs it. _

_She needs someone else to validate who she is because after ten years of Sarah Walker, it's this or it's nothing. _

_The realization is never more despairing than it is now. She's arrived early at the train station and he's not here. _

_All day she's been a bundle of nerves; which is why she applied the double—triple—coat of mascara, used the red lipstick, then regretted her decision and smudged it off, and chose the most impractical heels, the too-tight leggings and the flimsy floral shirt. _

_And now her hands are dampening the train tickets and passports. They're going to be illegible by the time they board the train. _

_But that's okay, because this is the last time Sarah has to feel nervous or insecure or afraid. Because after today, she's going to have something real and it won't matter if her name is Sarah or Sam or Jenny or whatever he wants it to be. _

_The thought almost makes her want to cry tears of relief. _

_Finally. _

_Finally something real. _

_He arrives on the platform at five to seven. She should have known and she hates herself for ever doubting; of course he'd come through for her. Of course he'd be here. _

_And when she sees him approach, she feels all her fears effervesce. She sighs in relief and her head feels a little lighter than it should. _

_Everything's going to be fine now; now that he's here. _

_Chuck looks a little pale, and that's understandable. He's not a spy and God knows what they're doing to him in Prague. She can tell from his eyes that he's afraid, and that's okay too, because she'll be there to protect him. _

_There's nothing to be afraid of now that they are together. _

"_Here's your ticket and new passport. Your name is Hector Calderon—" _

_He swallows uncomfortably. "Sarah, wait—" _

Okay._ So his new name was kind of lame but they can fix all that later. That's not important. _

"_We'll have plenty of time to talk on the train but right now we have to act fast." He still doesn't look convinced and she wishes he'd have a little faith. Has she ever let them down? _

"_Trust me, Chuck, everything's going to be fine." _

_She makes a silent promise to him and seals it with a kiss and then another and another. They're running out of time yet again but very soon they won't have to hide how they really feel. At least she won't. _

_It takes a moment for her to realize that Chuck's not kissing her back, that his hands are holding her arms at bay and not drawing her nearer. She opens her eyes and he looks apologetically at her before looking away. _

"_Uh..." She doesn't know how else to put it. "That's not the kiss that I was expecting." _

_She feints a smile in case this was all a prank, some sick joke she can chew Chuck out for later. But then Chuck looks at her and she doesn't need to hear another word. She prides herself on reading him better than anyone else and it's that very hubris that will destroy her. _

_She mouths the words but can't say them, in case there's still a chance that it's not true. That he'll realize he's making a mistake before she has to beg. _

_Her silence grants permission to continue. He starts to speak and she does everything in her power to shut him out. _

No.

Chuck don't.

Please.

_Normally so perceptive, he's blind to her silent horror. She can see the way his eyes light up; no longer for her but for something far greater. He smiles for the first time since she's seen him—_

"_Just think. Me. A _real_ spy." _

_She tries to convince him different, but he's deaf to her reasoning. All he can think about is becoming someone better, but doesn't he see? Sarah loves him just the way he is. Sam loves him just the way he is. _

"_Are you coming?" _

_He ghosts a smile and for a second she thinks she's misread him. He's just scared; cold feet, it happens. But her question lingers in the air, unanswered. _

_In a desperate bid, she grabs his hand and squeezes. Here she is. Isn't this what he's asked her for these past two years? _

_His hands are cold and unresponsive and she can feel him slipping away. _

_It's over. There's nothing she can offer him to trump what he has going for him. _

_The realization is a bitter one. He may be enough for her but she is certainly not enough for him. _

_He pushes the tickets back into her hand and apologizes. He touches her shoulder gently, asks her if she'll be able to find her way back. _

_He's polite to the very bitter end but nothing could be more insulting. _

_She shakes her head and gives a brisk response. _

_Chuck's shoulders droop and he apologizes, again. _

It's not you, it's me,_ he seems to imply. Sarah's used the line enough times to know what he's really getting at. _

_It's her. Now that he has Intersect 2.0, he no longer needs her. _

_He asks if she's going to be okay. _

_Sarah snaps out of her despair long enough to excuse herself. Does she look okay? _

_She would rather die than let him see her cry. He can't see what this has done to her. _

_She makes off with what pieces of her shattered dignity remain and doesn't look back. She gets on the train and purposely seats herself in the opposite direction of the platform. He doesn't follow her; he can't when she has his ticket. _

_She slams the cabin door shut and stares out the window, trying to catch her breath. _

_Sarah Walker takes off just as the train starts, leaving Sam all alone with her broken walls and shattered defenses. _

_Sam cries and it's okay. _

_No one cares about Sam. _

_

* * *

_

Sarah doesn't sleep well, not that she was expecting to. New city, new bed, a whole new set of problems...

And in the morning when she tries to pull herself together, she has to contend with the fact she looks exactly like how she feels.

_Shit._

There's no way she can give Carina the satisfaction of looking so haggard. She'd rather eat crow than see that smug smirk on her face again. Just the thought of their hotel conversation riles her up.

Sarah stabs her mascara wand back into the tube and yanks it out again, applying a vindictive second coat. It's not fair for Carina to always get her way; the top score at the Farm, the coveted assignment in Montenegro, the life of lavish parties and overflowing champagne, the ageless body and flawless complexion...and now Chuck?

She shudders as unbidden images of Carina and Chuck in the throes of passion flash before her very eyes. Her tongue is in his mouth, her fingers are ensnared in his curly brown hair...she can almost hear them. It's Carina's name he cries out.

Sarah throws her makeup into the sink. Her hands are shaking so bad she'll only make a mess of it.

Chuck is absolutely not Carina's type.

And Chuck, the same Chuck who told her she wasn't good enough, was now with the agency's equivalent of a call-girl?

She's so angry she wants to purchase a ticket and high-tail it back to DC.

_Because that's what you always do when things get tough, isn't it? _

She wants to call Shaw but he won't understand and there's nothing worse than bringing up His name with her current boyfriend. There's no one she can talk to. Not even her only friend.

Sarah muffles a scream. She wants to break something heavy and expensive, she wants to punch through doors, she wants to empty an entire clip into the wall...she wants...she wants...

Sarah takes a step back and tries to catch her breath. She stumbles against the bathtub and sinks to the floor. The ache in her chest throbs with each erratic heartbeat; she's so angry...she's so fucking angry...

Not at Carina. Not at Chuck. Not even at her emotionally stunted boyfriend.

If she were honest with herself, she knows there's only one person to blame. _But it's so much easier to be angry with someone who's asking for it. _

Sarah picks herself up and stares at the reflection in the mirror. "You're pathetic," she tells Sam. "Of course no one would want you."

Sarah scrutinizes her appearance; her thinning upper lip, the circles under her eyes, the washed out blue of her eyes and the frizzy, limp hair.

Of course no one would want her; she's a fucking train wreck.

Sarah swallows back the lump of revulsion building in her throat. Stoically she collects her make-up from the sink and dabs on a little more concealer, a brush more rouge, and a touch of color to her lips. She feeds into her nervousness and painstakingly straightens her hair with the flat-iron.

She needs to be at the top of her game today. She can't give them the satisfaction of knowing her secret and all that she's buried underneath. She needs to get ready and meet the team in an hour.

Meet Chuck in an hour.

"Stop it. Stop it. Stop it." Sarah squeezes her eyes shut and grits her teeth. She refuses to cry. She'd already been frivolous with her tears last night.

So Carina's with Chuck. Fine. So long as they don't do anything revolting in front of her she can be a professional about it.

Get in. Finish the job. Fly out. Go back to Shaw.

Go back to the status quo.

It's not a thrilling prospect but it's safe and Sarah likes safe. She takes a deep breath and waits until she thinks she's in the clear before opening her eyes. Cautiously she checks her reflection to make sure her make-up hasn't smudged.

Sarah Walker looks sternly back at her. And then slowly, ever so slowly, her lips curl upwards in a forced smile.

_See? _

She's going to be professional about all this, even if it kills her.

* * *

Chuck is not surprised when Casey comes walking into the villa's spacious entertainment center. Casey had never been one for knocking and just because he is an agent now, with his own team, does not mean Casey will ever see him as anything other than that idiot kid from the Buy More.

To be honest, he welcomes the distraction. COD has lost most of its charm since life had imitated art during a mission in Iraq two months ago. His right shoulder still occasionally aches from the gunshot wound. He has two weeks left of physical therapy and he couldn't be happier that it's almost over.

Being shot really sucks, he learned. Having to drag an unconscious Casey 300 yards while under fire, blood dripping down his arm, his shoulder aching, and then driving them to safety through streets that all looked the same, sucked even more.

Casey sits beside him and watches him play. The only reason he keeps up with it is because it's one of the few activities in his new life he can share completely with Morgan. There's no lying, no telling him half-truths about his missions. With COD, he can be as open as he wants. And he owes that to Morgan, because if not for him being by his side after things with Sarah deconstructed, he didn't think he'd have survived his new assignment in Rome.

But after only five minutes of Casey sitting quietly, he pauses the game and turns to face Casey. "What's up?"

Casey just stares. It's more than a little disconcerting, but ever since Iraq, there's a different look in Casey's eyes whenever he looks at him. It's not quite respect, not quite gratitude, but something akin to understanding. It's more than a little strange, but Chuck's not complaining.

"We need to talk."

"About what?"

Of course Chuck knows. It's obvious why Casey is here, it's the same thing they've been arguing about since Beckman informed them that Sarah was coming.

"I need to know if you can handle this."

"I'll be fine," Chuck says, his voice lifeless. He turns his eyes back to the large flatscreen TV dominating the main wall of the room. The last thing he wants to talk about is Sarah.

"You haven't seen her in almost a year."

Chuck grunts. Does Casey think he doesn't know that? There is nothing Chuck is more aware of than the passage of time since Sarah stood him up at Union Station. Every day is a little easier, a little less of a challenge to lock away the part of his mind dedicated to Sarah Walker. If only he could excise that part completely, he'd be much better off. But he can't and he doesn't really want to.

"I know, Casey." Chuck turns back to face his partner. "I'll tell you the same thing I told Beckman. I can handle it. I can be professional. That's what everybody wants, right? You, Beckman, Sarah?" he says the last name bitterly.

"I told Beckman this was a bad idea," Casey mutters. The Colonel glares at him, through him, until it seems like he's glaring at the wall, the world. "I told her we didn't need this kind of complication. It's bad enough we have to put up with Carina."

"I'm sure Sarah wants to be here as much as we want her to be here." The sad thing is that's it's probably the truth. They used to be so good together; they were a team.

How have things become so screwed up?

"I'd prefer her not being here at all."

"I said I can handle it," Chuck says angrily. Why does nobody believe him? His days of falling all over himself for Sarah Walker are long gone. He knows now that Sarah never cared for him the same way he cared for her. That much has become obvious and he's not going to let his feelings interfere with the mission. He'll do his part, the mission will be a success, and Sarah can go back to Shaw and the life she's always wanted.

"I'll be fine," he reiterates.

"Bullshit."

Casey's voice is harsh, pitiless, like a slap to the face. They've had this same argument every day for a week, only now Casey is getting mean. He just won't let it go.

"I'm serious. She made her choice," Chuck says with a tired sigh. "And I'm finally okay with that."

"You really expect me to believe that?" Casey has never looked more skeptical during their talks than he does right now. "You expect me to believe you're really over Walker?"

"I never said I was over her, just that I have finally accepted her choice." He shrugs his shoulders and tries not to let the roiling cauldron of intense emotions he's feeling show on his face. "And honestly, Casey, it really doesn't matter what you or I think. She's coming and that's that."

"I want a no-bullshit, no-nonsense assessment. Can you work with her?"

"Yes." Chuck is surprised to realize he is telling the truth. "Look, Casey, the simple fact of the matter is that I wasn't good enough for her." Chuck sighs and runs a hand through his shortened hair. "I never really was. Clearly she prefers somebody like Bryce or Shaw and I'm…not them."

Casey doesn't say anything for several long seconds and then he grunts. He stands up and starts to walk away. He stops and Chuck looks at the big man's back. Casey, his voice quiet but serious, says, "You're wrong, you know. You're a better man than they were or could ever be."

And then Casey is gone and Chuck is left alone with his game.

* * *

What happens next chapter? I think it's pretty obvious. Fun times, ahead!


	4. Chapter 4

**marshmallow's a/n: **Don't listen to the lamb, it's not her fault this took so long to get out. It's mine. She's been awesome, as always, and I'm the one who has dragged their feet. Really, this shouldn't be a surprise to any of you. At least not to anybody who knows us. Anyway, enough about that. Hope you guys enjoy the chapter and let us know what you think. It'll make moo happy. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. You're awesome!

**malamoo's a/n: **hey, mxmoo is back! so sorry for the delay. I've been putting in very very long hours at the library. speaking of which, i have to head back now. bye!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Chuck laughs half-heartedly as Morgan becomes even more animated in his retelling of last night's dating fiasco.

"So then she asks me what kind of job I had and I told her I was the Alfred to your Bruce Wayne and do you know what she did? She just stared at me like she didn't even know what I was saying!"

Chuck shrugs. What can he say?

"Can you believe that?" Morgan asks, waving his arms wildly.

Chuck shakes his head dutifully and with an indulgent smile asks, "So what did you do?"

Morgan sighs, resigned to his fate. "You know how much I love Italian chicks, Chuck, but a man has got to have standards."

"I hope you at least paid for dinner."

Morgan nods his head with an enthusiastic grin. "Of course I did." He leans forward, wary of Casey's presence at the other end of the conference table and adds in a conspiratorial whisper: "I charged it to your expense account. Just, _uh_, don't tell Casey."

Chuck laughs more vocally this time and winks at Morgan. "Your secret is safe with me, Buddy."

It's the first genuine laugh he's had in awhile and he allows the tension to temporarily drain from his body as he imagines Casey's outrage at American taxpayer money going to support Morgan's failed romantic engagements.

It's a much needed release from the tension that's been building all week. He doesn't care what everyone else says, and yeah, maybe Morgan is riding his coattails a little, but he needs his best friend.

Morgan bounces in his seat and taps out an uneven beat along the tabletop. Casey looks up from his paper and growls, giving Morgan the glare reserved for morons and screw-ups. Somehow, the bearded fellow manages to miss the look of loathing and barely suppressed rage. Chuck is not surprised.

Chuck looks over at Casey and smirks. There are days, too many of them, when he wishes for the old days when Casey gave him that same look.

"I thought I told you no more Red Bulls!"

Morgan spins around in his chair and looks helplessly at the big burly man. "But they call to me, Casey. They call to me and I can't say no!"

"It's completely out of his hands," Chuck chimes in and his friend shrugs his shoulders in agreement.

"What can you do?"

Casey groans and looks like he's itching to shoot something or somebody. "Does he really have to be here?"

Morgan stops bouncing in his seat. His smile falls and he looks at the man in all seriousness. "I'm here for moral support," he intones.

Casey's silent for a moment. No quip about notions of over-inflated self-importance or being just plain stupid. No.

He gives a half nod, as if they've reached a silent agreement without their team leader.

"Okay."

Chuck frowns and now both of them are staring at him, gauging his reaction. Casey forgets the paper in his hand, Morgan forgets about how the evening with his hot date came to a disastrous conclusion and suddenly it seems there's only one topic of interest.

He hates that his relationship with Sarah has become that unmentionable elephant in the room. He clears his throat but there's no clearing the air. It's become thick and oppressive, the way it always is before an impending storm.

"I'm fine," he says for the hundredth time—no exaggeration. He's told them he can handle things and be professional about all this but the looks of disbelief in both men's eyes remain.

They're just waiting for him to slip up—a simple twitch of the lips or shade of the eyes will suffice—or perhaps they'll let him slide and wait for the aftermath, for when he reaches for the bottle and two pints of cookie dough ice-cream.

Chuck's stomach turns at the memory of that particular nauseating combination.

"Guys, trust me," he reiterates. "Anything we may have had ended a long time ago. I've accepted her decision." He pauses and then feels compelled to add: "Really."

It's become a mantra; surely if he says it enough times he'll start to believe it.

That's how it works, isn't it?

"So let's just get this meeting over with. The faster we finish, the faster we can finish the mission and then everything will go back to normal."

His quiet life in Rome. Sarah's quaint life in Washington with Shaw.

He sighs. That's all he really wants.

Space.

Distance.

Casey gives him a look—a different kind of look these days—and then gestures to the clock on the wall.

"She's late." The two words are spoken in a voice vaguely laced in disgust.

Chuck nods wordlessly. It's not like Sarah, and he can't help thinking that she's late because she doesn't respect him as a fellow spy.

Is she disappointed in her latest assignment?

Is this a sign of her protest?

He's aware of Sarah's resistance (Beckman saw fit to share that little tidbit) and if it weren't for Carina, he's not sure she would have come at all.

Chuck blinks and shakes his head. Despite all his misgivings towards Sarah, he knows deep down that she's always conducted herself as professionally as possible. She wouldn't jeopardize a job because of a personal grudge.

Chuck looks discretely down at the watch on his wrist.

Twenty minutes past.

They should give her the benefit of the doubt. Maybe she's run into trouble. What then?

Chuck tries to hide the worry from his eyes; Casey's not good with the "lady-feelings", but Morgan's radar is attuned to him. He'll see right through the mask.

Chuck's hand inches a little closer to his pocket. Not for the first time he contemplates calling her contact number.

_Don't be a moron._

The voice from his conscience sounds eerily like Casey; so much in fact Chuck turns to the man just to double-check. Casey gives him a blank look.

"What?"

Chuck shakes his head. "Nothing. Just...waiting."

His hand itches for the phone again but his conscience (and Casey) are right. He's a spy now and he understands that sometimes delays happen. He just needs to be patient.

_And stop being so over-eager. It's not worth it._

Chuck looks over at Casey again.

The door suddenly opens and his eyes immediately dart to the front. A pair of slender legs slips through the gap and saunters towards them.

Chuck can't help the sigh of disappointment when he realizes who it is.

"You're late," Casey growls.

Carina grins. "I'm not late, Casey, you're just early."

Chuck snorts in bemusement but quickly schools his face into a serious façade. The last thing he wants to do is encourage Carina. He gives her his best stern look, which even he knows isn't very stern, and says, "You promised to be on your best behavior, Carina."

Carina rolls her eyes and takes the chair next to him. "Oh _no_, Chuck," she purrs. "I guess I've been naughty." She gives him a saucy smirk. "When can I expect my spanking?"

Despite the months of flirting, innuendo, and over the top come-ons, Carina still manages to make him blush. He looks away and faces Casey instead, and the man's anger-filled visage quickly banishes any inappropriate thoughts Carina's words might have inspired.

"Shall we get started?" she hedges.

He feels the tension drain out of him as her eyes leave him to take in the room.

"There's no point without Walker."

"Oh Sarah's just wrapping up a call with her man outside." Carina turns in her seat and suddenly her eyes are locked on Chuck again. "She should be done any second now."

The wave of anger hits him before he has any way to control it and Carina doesn't miss a thing. She ghosts a smile, an insignificant gesture compared to the gloating smile he can tell she's holding back, and her mercurial eyes flash with interest.

Chuck clenches his fists underneath the table. He bites his lips to prevent himself from snapping something petty and angry and glares back at Carina.

Carina gives him a perfectly blank expression in return.

"_Don't," _he mouths quietly to avoid detection by the men. He knows Carina's just trying to get a rise out of him and despite his best efforts he's sure his feelings about Sarah and Shaw show clearly on his face.

Casey grunts in disgust. "She should know better. Doesn't she know she's keeping us waiting?"

Carina shrugs. "Fools in love. You wouldn't understand, Casey."

The dig goes too far but Chuck bites his tongue. He may have accepted Sarah's choice—that he wasn't and could never be what she wanted, but that doesn't mean he likes thinking of the two of them together.

Was it juvenile for him to dislike Shaw so much? Maybe. And maybe if he were a better person he'd accept that Shaw gave Sarah something he couldn't.

It's a hard truth to swallow. In fact, even now, months later, he still struggles with it. That's why he needs this mission to be over as soon as possible. The faster Sarah leaves Rome, the sooner he can lock Sarah back up in that part of his mind he rarely visits.

"She's being unprofessional—" Casey halts. "Oh wait. That's pretty much in line with Walker's MO_._"

Chuck's annoyance comes back with a vengeance and he contemplates stalking to the door and demanding that Sarah join them. She can talk to her..._boyfriend_ on her own time. She's holding them back and it's disrespectful.

Suddenly he understands how Casey must have felt every time he tried to engage Sarah in talk about their feelings. He understands how that word can sound so much like a curse.

This is precisely why spies don't have relationships.

Chuck sighs. He has to learn to be better at stuffing his feelings into a box.

Frankly, he's surprised Sarah's forgotten her own lesson—not that he's not used to it. He's learned in the time since Union Station that Sarah's rules only apply to him.

"What the hell does she even see in that moron?" Casey suddenly asks the room.

"Oh, don't you know?" Carina gives a flippant smirk, all the while still watching Chuck like a hawk. "Apparently the sex is fantastic."

Chuck's reaction is immediate. He flinches as if struck and turns away but there's nowhere to hide.

_Damn her. _Chuck grits his teeth and hastily tries to recover. He has no idea why she's picking at his scabs today of all days but if she wants a confrontation later she's going to get it.

Morgan makes a face. "Really?" He shrugs, and looks like he's mulling it over. "Well now that I think about it, that chiseled jaw...I can imagine—"

"Idiot," Casey growls.

Morgan realizes his mistake too late. He gives his friend an apologetic look and between Carina's twisted grin and Casey's snarl it's too much. He explodes out of his chair and stalks over to the large bay window, trying to clear his thoughts with help from the picturesque view.

"Chuck?" Morgan hedges. "You okay?"

Chuck doesn't give a response. He just can't face them right now.

"Come on, Chuck," Carina says. "Don't be like that."

He stares out the window, knowing he's being immature and melodramatic but he doesn't care.

To his surprise, Casey is on his side this time. "Just shut the fuck up, Carina."

Chuck relaxes slightly at the venom in Casey's voice.

"Hey, you asked," Carina says, getting defensive. "I was just giving you my honest answer."

Chuck closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. If he doesn't say something soon they're going to start an all-out brawl in the conference room.

"Guys—"

Just then, the door opens again and he catches a woman's silhouette in the reflection of the window. The clear glass makes it difficult to see and it's probably for the better, because he's not sure he can take in all the details of Sarah at once.

That little box he's stuffed all his feelings into starts to spill over the edges. Chuck clenches his jaw and tries not to stare at the blurry reflection. There were a lot of things that could have been, but he can't think about any of that now.

He has to man up.

He has to remember he's a spy now.

Chuck nods with determination. He's not sure what she'll think once he turns around. He's not sure what he'll think once he turns around.

But one thing's for sure. Things just got a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

Sarah arrives at Chuck's office too early. Well, ten minutes isn't exactly early but she'll do anything to delay the inevitable. Even though she's had more than a month to get herself ready, she still feels like she's clawing at every second she can to muffle her pounding heart and create some semblance of a professional within herself.

Sarah nods at the security guard sitting at the front desk and gives him her name. He studies her cover ID intently and after checking with his computer, allows her through. She pauses just before leaving the lobby and gives her nod of approval.

The cameras are inconspicuous, the windows thick, and the guard alert. The building is as secure as it could be without drawing any unwanted attention.

Sarah forgoes the elevator and ascends the long spiral staircase to draw out the time. Checking the security of the building only delays the inevitable, and it doesn't provide the escape she needs. She's in one of the most elegant neighborhoods of one of the most beautiful cities in the world and none of it makes a difference. Even as she carefully takes in her surroundings, she doesn't feel a thing. New city, new assignment; it's all been done before.

Dragging her heels down the hallway, she finds the room number and hesitates. A second is all it takes and suddenly she remembers things better left forgotten.

There's no way to separate the good from the bad; if she wants to hold onto those few stolen kisses, the feel of his arms taking her in, she'll have to accept how he took all the air from her lungs and all the color from her sight when he pressed that train ticket back into her hand.

The memory is bittersweet and leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

Sarah sighs and has to step away to catch her breath. She can't bring any of that into the room—no baggage.

They might as well be strangers.

That's how it has to be. That's the only way this is going to work.

She's here to do a job and nothing else.

She leans against the wall as she rifles through her bag for her cell. Carina saunters into view. Judging by the grin on her face it would appear that there were no hard feelings about the night before.

"Hurry up, Walker, or you're going to be late," Carina greets with a smirk.

Sarah frowns. "You told me nine-thirty."

Her friend feigns shock. "Did I?" she asks and then shrugs. "Oh. I must have gotten confused. I meant nine."

Sarah emits a barely audible growl, channeling all her anger into the poor cell phone in her grip.

"Carina!" Sarah wonders what the point is in getting mad. It's not like her friend will actually feel an emotion that could possibly resemble guilt.

Carina shrugs. "Relax. I'll smooth it over with them first." She doesn't leave room for protest. "Give me five," she says with a wink and disappears through the door, closing it quickly behind her.

Sarah wouldn't entrust Carina with a potted fern much less her already less than stellar reputation but it's not like she has a choice.

Before she can think of barging into the office, the cell in her hand goes off. Sarah stares at the call-screen in frustration, but if she doesn't answer now…

"Why didn't you call me this morning?"

_Well hello to you too,_ she thinks wryly.

"I was getting ready for my meeting and I overslept," she says. The lies come so easily now she's not so sure it's a lie at all.

She hears an unhappy grunt and can almost picture the frown Shaw has on his face. There's no question, he's not even hiding the fact—

"Well you shouldn't have. Why didn't you go to bed earlier?"

Sarah rolls her eyes. "Because I was really tired from the flight and I was trying to get ready for the meeting this morning—"

"Then you should have gone to bed earlier. This isn't a social visit, Sarah; I thought I made that clear."

Sarah bites her tongue. It's not like she went out for a night on the town, but he'll see it just the same when Carina's involved.

"Isn't it three in the morning in DC?" she asks.

"Don't try to change the subject," he says. "Now promise me you aren't going to see her."

"She's my best friend." And more importantly… "She's on the team."

"You know what I mean," he says. "If she wants to go out for drinks, you make an excuse and go back to the hotel. You need your rest."

"But I feel fine—"

"You just said you were really tired," he accuses and just like that, Sarah realizes she's fallen into another one of his traps.

She bites her tongue again. Damn him and his semantics. Why did he have to go through everything she said with a fine-tooth comb?

"I have to go," she says, avoiding an argument nine months in the making. "I'm late."

As soon as she says the words, she realizes her mistake.

"Late? I thought you were busy getting ready this morning. How can you be late?"

"Shaw—" Sarah grits her teeth. She knows she'll get nowhere if she calls him that. "_Daniel._ Please, I'm late."

He sighs and Sarah feels her shoulders fall. She's difficult, she knows. She'll never measure up to his dead wife, she knows.

"I'm sorry," she says, almost out of impulse.

"It's okay. Just get the mission over with as soon as possible. I need you back here."

Some of Sarah's disappointment fades upon hearing those words. It always felt good to be needed.

"I should only be a few days and then I'll be back," she assures.

Shaw sounds happier too. "Good, because I need you on the op in Miami."

His words take out her fledgling hopes like an arrow piercing the sky and the spiraling disappointment descends upon her once again.

"Of course," she whispers quietly, afraid she'll give more of herself away if she speaks any louder. It was probably too much to hope he might actually want her back because he misses her.

"I love you," he says, the phrase now synonymous with goodbye.

"Yeah," she replies, her usual response. "Me too." And then she hangs up before anything else can be said.

Sarah puts her cell phone away and takes a deep breath. And then another. She pushes all thought of Shaw aside and forgets everything. She can't think about anything right now except the mission.

_You can do this. You can do this. You can do this. _

Sarah nods, trying to convince herself as she chants the mantra in her head as she smoothes down her clothes and walks forward—with purpose now—and opens the door.

Instantly, all eyes at the table are on her and she feels quite literally like she's the grotesquely large elephant in the room. It doesn't matter how quietly she can tiptoe or how much she tries to shrink herself with her mind, everyone is watching her every move—well, except for the one person she'd been hoping to see.

With practiced ease she quickly assesses the room as she makes her way to the empty seat. Casey looks annoyed and angry, probably because of her lack of punctuality. Carina, having already been reacquainted earlier, has already glanced away to stare at Chuck's back. Morgan gives her an unsure smile and she nods her head in response. She dismisses all three as inconsequential.

She focuses on Chuck, and something she isn't even aware she still had inside her awakens. She can't explain it. The simple nearness of him makes her feel as if all the colors in the room are more vivid than they were seconds ago.

She does her best to quash the feelings, but no matter how hard she tries, her heart's still ticking like mad and her stomach is churning with butterflies.

It doesn't mean anything.

It's just a sympathomimetic overload. She didn't sleep well, she's nervous, she's stressed from the phone call.

Just because she doesn't see colors more vividly or feel short of breath near Shaw doesn't mean their relationship is anything less.

Sarah knows she's staring but she doesn't care. No one's saying anything; everyone's waiting for him to say something.

Anything.

Sarah clenches her jaw._ Turn around._

He looks broader around the shoulders than she remembers, and there is a stiffness to his stance that was never there before.

His hair is still tragically short and curl-free.

_Turn around, Chuck. _

Doesn't he know she's here?

Of course, he must.

So is he dreading this moment every bit as much as she is? She's anticipated and feared for this moment in equal measure, especially since Carina's visit last night, but it's now or never.

She can't keep up this façade alone. She needs him to play his part.

_God damn it, turn around, Chuck! _

As if on command, he spins around and walks back towards the conference table. Their eyes meet, however briefly, and Sarah feels all the air in her lungs escape her.

His face is impassive, and his normally expressive eyes are guarded and unreadable. When they glance at her, it's calculating and dispassionate, like she's a target or a mark and nothing more.

Then again, why is she surprised? This is the new Chuck. Her Chuck has long since gone.

He frowns slightly and she wonders if there's something wrong with her appearance. She touches her hair self-consciously, trying to reassure herself in spite of such a fragile mask.

"Nice of you to finally join us," he says and the annoyance in his voice is obvious.

She tenses. "I was taking care of a personal matter," she says, taking on a similar tone. She doesn't mean to sound so cold, but it's not her fault she's late. He has his teammate to thank for that.

Casey snorts. "Deal with your personal crap on your own time, Walker. Don't bring it in here."

She turns to glare at Carina. Obviously her friend has taken to the task of covering for her in true fashion.

"I didn't. That's why I dealt with it outside."

Sarah's not altogether clueless. She knows speaking about Shaw with Chuck around is going to make things uncomfortable for everyone; it's not like she wants to talk about her personal life anyhow.

She watches Casey's eyes narrow and it looks like he's about to give a snappy response when Chuck clears his throat and clears the air.

"Okay, that's enough."

Sarah gives a small sigh of relief and turns around to thank Chuck—there's no reason she can't at least be polite, even if she really didn't need him coming to her rescue—but he won't look at her.

She frowns. Some semblance of civil behavior while they were on the job was probably too much to ask for but if he can't even look at her, she has no idea why she's even here.

Chuck's eyes finally settle on a spot near the middle of the table. She watches as he takes a deep breath and then raises his eyes to level with the man sitting across from them.

Chuck nods his head once and Casey grunts.

"Finally." Casey opens the dossier in front of him and begins to go over the relevant details.

Sarah tunes him out. She's studied the document forwards and back a hundred times since she agreed to this assignment; she could recite all fifty pages of notes verbatim if the need arose.

As expected, Carina seems to be paying attention for once. Sarah snorts quietly. Knowing her friend, this is probably the first time Carina has even bothered to pay attention to the mission parameters.

Not for the last time, Sarah wonders why she's even here on such a seemingly straightforward mission. It's a relatively simple reconnaissance and information gathering operation. The person of interest is one Lorenzo Garibaldi, a suspect facilitator of illegal materials in and out of the Mediterranean with strong ties to various North African terrorist groups, Somali pirates, Afghani drug runners, and Eastern European human traffickers etcetera etcetera. Perhaps more importantly and to the point, are the tenuous pieces of data that connect him to the Ring.

Garibaldi's forty-fifth will be celebrated in style and Team Bartowski intends to be there. As with all extravagant parties involving rich, dangerous men, there's talk of the party being nothing more than a front for a gathering of his chief lieutenants.

The mission calls for Chuck and Carina to attend the party as a couple (okay, so the idea still rankles her more than she'd care to admit), bug Garibaldi's office where the potential meeting will take place and dump his hard drive.

Sarah is to attend as a guest and cover for any unforeseen difficulties while Casey plays the role of chauffer. The arrangement is so reminiscent of old times it causes Sarah to smile faintly at the memory.

She can't describe the feeling in words but sitting here in this chair with Chuck to her right and Casey across from her just feels…_right_.

Just like the way things used to be.

Work these last few months had felt like trying to jam a square peg into a triangular hole; she's almost forgotten why she does this for a living.

Still, she can't help the nagging feeling that all is not as it appears. Besides a passing familiarity with Garibaldi's organization during a mission in Warsaw years back she has no more connection or knowledge of the man than any other random CIA agent.

Was it possible Chuck had just wanted to see her?

Then she catches Carina staring and all pleasant thought dissipates into the air. Her friend gives her a wink and the expression makes her skin prickle. She's acutely aware of Chuck's presence beside her…so either Carina's goading her—

_Or maybe she's just being playful with her boyfriend._

Sarah swallows with some difficulty. Knowing Carina she's not one to pass on the opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.

Carina smiles and this time Sarah's sure it's directed at her. She knows that look, she's seen it a hundred times, and suddenly Sarah's queasy with dread.

A straightforward mission? Perhaps.

Simple? Never.

# # # # #

The meeting adjourns but not before Casey has gone through the itinerary so meticulously there's no conceivable way for Carina to deviate from the plan. Naturally her friend will have to think extra hard tonight to find loop-holes for improvisation. She doesn't doubt that Carina will find something.

Sarah takes her time, moving slowly to gather her things from the table and to rise from her seat. Morgan leaves first, something about pizza or other, then Casey, Carina…until it's just her and Chuck.

He seems to be taking his time clearing up the conference room. She's never known him to obsess about the arrangement of chairs at the table before.

Even something as insignificant as that that makes her frown.

She used to love Chuck's ability to find order in the mess of things. Chuck would never insist on making the bed immediately after getting up in the morning, or scold her for not using a coaster _every _single damn time.

At least not the old Chuck.

She takes a deep breath.

It's now or never.

She can't work under these conditions. Something needs to change.

"Chuck?"

He stills and his back goes rigid but at least she has his attention.

She bites her lip. "_Um…_can we talk?"

Chuck doesn't respond and it's a strange feeling, being left hanging. The old Chuck would have rushed to fill the smallest gaps of silence. She loved that about him too. She's not much of a talker herself.

"Please?"

Still no response. Chuck doesn't turn around to face her.

"The thing is…" Sarah hesitates. She's not really sure what she wants to say. To be honest she was kind of hoping she'd give the offer and Chuck would take charge. "The thing is…" She tries again but to no avail. She's asking for something she's not sure she can put to words.

_You want the truth? _

"We're…" Her heart starts beating erratically and she's so nervous she feels like she might faint on the spot. "We're still…friends, right?"

She knows there's no hope for them romantically (she knows that, she knows that), but she needs to know that there's still a chance for something…anything (she'll take anything) between them. Even if he's not the Chuck she fell for.

_The truth?_

"I…"

The truth is, Chuck once told her that he'd always be her friend. That he'd always care for her.

And she missed that. More than anything.

He became a constant in her life and then suddenly, one day he's the unknown variable. She used to know him. She used to be able to read him just by his smiles.

And now he won't even turn around to look at her.

"I need to know that we're okay."

Chuck whips around and Sarah knows she's said the wrong thing. The look of disbelief is so mired with disgust she'd like nothing more than to eat her own words.

"I mean I need to know that we can work together—professionally."

She looks hesitantly at him and she knows there's no hope for anything more at this point. Maybe if she doesn't slip up again she might get some semblance of their old working relationship back by the end of this mission.

And maybe (_big_ maybe), if things went well, this might not be the only mission they'd collaborate on. There could be others.

And maybe someday far, far in the future, they could be friends again.

She'd really like that. More than she could ever publicly admit.

"Yeah…we're okay," he dismisses and goes back to shuffling papers into his folder.

"So we can talk?" she ventures.

Chuck still won't look at her. "Maybe later," he says but it might as well be a negation. Whatever lofty goals she may have for their future, he's quelled them quite efficiently in less than ten seconds.

She tries not to let the frustrated sigh slip past her lips, but she fails. He looks up sharply and glares; the look he gives her is enough to make her want to melt into a pool and dissolve into the carpet.

"I think it's best," he says through clenched teeth, "that things remain strictly professional between us, Agent Walker. There is nothing that needs to be said that wasn't already covered in the briefing."

_Agent Walker?_

She has to look away before he sees just how deeply he's wounded her with those two simple words. It's not so much the name in itself that makes her ache, but the way he says it.

She was always impartial to the cover but he made it real for her. He said her name like it was really her name, like that's who she really is.

And now it's just an alias. Like Jenny Burton or Rebecca or Katie.

Gone is the affection in his voice and the warmth from his eyes. She's not sure who this man is but he's not Chuck. This is the monster she's made, the spy she turned him into.

This is the man she had to get away from.

Suddenly, he slams his fist onto the table and she jumps, startled from her reverie.

"For three years, I begged, pleaded, and fought for every little piece of information you saw fit to give me. _Three years_," he says. His barely restrained anger makes his words fly out like spitfire; choppy but to-the-point.

She tries to meet his eyes but she's no match for the intensity of his glare. She has no choice but to look away.

"All I wanted was to know you, to understand you. I wasn't going to hurt you or betray you, but you gave me nothing. And I accepted that because I just thought you were afraid or reluctant or it just wasn't your way. But that's not true, is it? You just didn't want to tell _me_."

Sarah winces when Chuck opens his mouth again, preemptively preparing herself for another verbal assault but he stops abruptly and takes a seat.

Silence reigns between them for several moments. She chances a look at him and her heart breaks a little at the total exhaustion that has taken over his features.

"I'm sorry," he says. He sounds genuine in his contrition and even manages a small smile. "I'm being hypocritical and ridiculous. If I want a professional relationship, I should probably try acting like a professional, huh?" The smile widens and even his eyes partake.

She relaxes a little and tries to smile in return, but all she can manage is a nod of the head. She feels sick all over; no one has ever made her feel so awful and insignificant the way he just did and she has no one to blame but herself.

"It's okay," she whispers.

He nods his head and perhaps seeing her sickly pallor, takes pity on her. His posture eases and the tension in his face fades away.

"Maybe when the mission is over and we figure out this arrangement, we can grab a cup of coffee." His whole face brightens for a second and is overtaken by a painfully familiar boyish grin.

"Or get some gelato," he suggests. "I know this great gelato place by the Trevi Fountain. It's really…"

He trails off and then shakes his head, grinning wryly. "I'm doing it again. Sorry."

She wants to tell him that she doesn't mind this kind of unprofessional relationship. She wants to tell him that she understands, even though she doesn't really. She wants to tell him a lot of things: that's she's sorry, how much she regrets so many things in the past, how she wishes they could go back to the way they were.

She doesn't though. No words can make any of this go away and she's not looking for some excuse to ease her penance. She made a choice. They both did.

At some point in your life, you have to take responsibility for your actions and she figures just past thirty is about damn time.

Chuck frowns slightly when she doesn't respond and then he nods, like he expected as such.

"Anyway, I will see you later tonight. Remember, we're all meeting back here at nineteen-hundred for a last minute briefing."

He doesn't wait for her to respond. They had their moment and now it's all gone.

He walks out the door, never looking back.

The room grows cold with his absence and the faint din of traffic down below becomes clearer and more discordant as she becomes aware of the fact that she's all alone now.

And then she realizes to her greater dismay that she never got to say what she wanted to say, and that nothing has changed.


	5. Chapter 5

**mxpw's Author's Note**: We've received a lot of feedback that this story is a lot like **moo's** _Second Chance_, which is honestly a bit puzzling. The stories cover entirely different topics, and it's a little insulting that just because a story has elements of angst and introspection, it's automatically lumped into a specific category. You have our word that this story will NOT be like _Second Chance_ at all.

Also, we've been getting comments about how weak and lifeless Sarah seems in this tale, and that she's too depressed. We are merely presenting the same Sarah that was given to us in canon for the first episodes of season three. Please give us a chance. I promise you, things are about to get very, very different.

**moo's Author's Note**: Hmm, I'm still hanging out at the library and getting **mxpw** to do my dirty work. While I'm flattered at the comparisons to 2C I don't feel the premises are similar. Especially not when there's (cover your eyes) sham. Thanks for reading!

* * *

**Chapter 5:**

Chuck hurries down the hall, trying to catch up with Carina, and all the while doing his best to put the confrontation with Sarah out of his mind. Already the voices in his head are clamoring over one another for a chance to be heard and he's not sure that would be a good idea at the moment.

Sarah's crazy if she thinks they can go back to being friends.

They need more time. A _lot_ more time.

Chuck gives a sigh of relief when he realizes that Carina's still in the building. He races down the stairs, catching a glimpse of her perfect silhouette as it round the corner.

"Carina, wait!" Chuck stumbles to pull even with her, a movement in perfect contrast to the woman's fluid strides.

She slows and leans a hip against the wall, looking not in the least surprised.

"Hey, Chuckles, what's up?"

Chuck rolls his eye. _What's up? _Is that all she has to say for herself?

"What the hell was that back there?" he seethes. It comes off more harshly than he intends, but the memory of Carina's words and the unbidden images of Sarah and Shaw _together_ have already started to poison every aspect of his judgment.

Carina's said things in poor taste before but never like this.

The woman's eyes widen slowly and she bites her bottom lip. "I don't know what you mean," she says with a slight shake of the head. He might have bought the act if she didn't sound so obviously blasé.

"Don't give me that crap, Carina." Another wave of anger hits him unexpectedly and he feels compelled to crowd her personal space and force her to remove her placid façade.

It's certainly a gamble. He's well aware that Carina could kick his ass anytime she saw fit but then the emotions wash over him and he decides he really doesn't care.

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Carina shrugs. "I was just making conversation—honest. You've got it all wrong." Then she bats her stormy blue eyes at him and just like that, he can feel his anger fading away.

God damn her.

He laughs because it's the only thing he really can do.

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Carina smirks. "Yeah but you love me anyway." Chuck can tell she's pleased with herself; her eyes are too bright for her not to be.

"More like I haven't figured out a way to get rid of you yet—"

Carina suddenly grabs his tie and yanks him toward her, threatening to strangle him in the process. Pitching forward with both arms out, Chuck struggles to find his balance again. One palm ends up flat against the wall and the other…

"_Uh…_"

Carina presses his other palm flat against her chest, right between her breasts.

Chuck swallows and all the air in the room seems to have escaped at that precise moment. Milliseconds later, when he's regained control of his higher senses, he tries to do the honorable thing and pull away, but Carina's got a firm grip and unless he wants to use the Intersect, there's little he can do without making a fool of himself.

Resigned to letting the redhead play out her game, he looks down both sides of the vacant hallway and sincerely prays no one walks in on them.

"Carina, what are you doing?" he asks.

"Making sure you can feel my heart breaking."

Chuck frowns and Carina's grip slackens. He pulls his hand away immediately and keeps both behind his back just in case.

"You have a heart?" he asks, looking dubious.

Carina stiffens and she gives him a withering glare. It's potent enough to make all the flowers in the hall shrivel up and die and Chuck's just barely spared a similar fate.

"I'm sorry," he says and runs his now free hand through his hair. "That was uncalled for."

"You're right," she agrees. "It was."

They stare at one another and now he has no idea what they're talking about.

"I'm tired of playing your games, Carina. Please, just stop."

Carina sighs and moves a little closer, removing the distance between them once again. "Everyone plays games, Chuck. I'm just better at them than everybody else."

Chuck's eyes narrow slightly and he's forced to take in a deep whiff of Carina's perfume as she takes another step closer. The scent of her is intoxicating; a potent mixture of dark desire and even darker designs.

He shakes his head and steps away from her, putting some much needed distance between them.

"You made me a promise," he reminds, putting a cautious hand on her shoulder to keep her at bay.

Carina rolls her eyes and looks personally affronted. "Oh come on! I make a few comments and suddenly I'm misbehaving?" She shakes her head and leans back against the wall, arms crossed in front. "Get the stick out of your ass already."

Chuck clenches his fist to stop himself from doing something regrettable. "You wanna torture me, fine. But do it on your own time and do it when she's not here."

Carina shakes her head at him. "You're blind, you know that?"

Chuck waits for Carina to explain herself, but when she says nothing further, he has no choice but to take the bait.

"What do you mean by that?"

Carina shrugs. "You'll figure it out." A beat. "Eventually." She stares at him. "Probably."

_Fine, whatever._ Just more of Carina's games. "Look, just promise me that you'll stop with all the comments, okay?"

"Cross my heart," she says, her fingers crossing across her chest, "hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." She sticks out her tongue when she finishes.

Chuck laughs, he can't help it. "You never change, do you?"

"Who'd love me if I did?"

Chuck laughs quietly to himself and sidles up beside Carina, back against the wall. He runs a tired hand through his cropped hair and before he realizes it, the words are already tumbling out of his mouth.

"Seeing her again just brings it all back, you know?"

She nods. "I know." Her gentle tone is all the push he needs to keep talking.

"I thought it would be different. I thought I was doing better." He shakes his head and sighs. "It's almost like the last nine months didn't happen."

She nods again. "I know."

Chuck shakes his head. She couldn't possibly understand. "Why is Sarah here?" he asks, spurned by sudden frustration. "She could have refused the assignment."

Carina just shrugs and stares at the blank wall opposite of them. "Maybe she missed working with you."

Chuck scoffs. "Right. That's why she had to leave Burbank." He shakes his head. "The thing is…I don't know…I was never spy enough for her. I was never good enough. So why the hell is she back?"

Carina looks at him curiously. "Is that what you really think?"

"Yes." He bangs his head back into the wall, the frustration fit to drive him insane. "No." He shakes his head. "I…I don't know."

Carina just nods. Truth be told, her lack of response is starting to unnerve him. It's just not Carina if she's not teasing or flirting or making sarcastic remarks.

It's just so…so…_weird_.

Still, now that all these feelings have come up, he can't very well suppress them.

"She told me we could be together once I became a spy. She told me it was the only way."

And he'd done everything in his power to make that happen. To make that a reality.

"She lied to me. I did what she wanted and then she left to be with _him_._" _He spits the last word out as if it were the vilest thing he's ever said.

His anger towards Carina feels trifle compared to the sort of rage he feels now. All the goodwill of his short détente with Sarah earlier dissipates and he'll admit it—he doesn't want her here, doesn't want to work with her, doesn't want to be near her at all.

Chuck is well aware of the powers one fatally beautiful blonde has over him. He knows he's only going to embarrass himself further and make an even more humiliating spectacle of himself the next times he opens his great big mouth.

He sighs. He doesn't need Carina to say it to know that it's not Sarah's fault she's here. She's just following orders; that's all. And it's not her fault she chose Shaw over him; she can't help who she cares for.

But all the understanding in the world won't take away the pain of standing alone at Union Station and realizing that she wasn't coming. He can burn every keepsake and lock away all the memories, but he can't deny that seeing her again has made all his attempts futile.

He wants her back.

Carina notices the exact moment when all his anger vanishes and his hopes deflate. She wraps a strong arm around his middle.

"Come on," she says. "Let's get you home. I think you need a nap."

The suggestion is a surprisingly good one. "Yeah," he agrees. "Thanks. That's a good idea."

She just hums as they walk slowly down the hallway. "You can thank me later."

Chuck laughs softly under his breath. "I'm not going to sleep with you, Carina."

Carina pouts a little. "Why do you automatically assume I mean sex?"

He looks at her as if to ask: _Really? You really don't know?_

"Huh." She clucks her tongue. "Good point."

Chuck leaves the office with a smile on his face.

* * *

Sarah isn't surprised when she sees Casey waiting for her outside the elevator. In fact she's a little surprised he didn't spring on her the second she landed in Rome—though, mind you, Carina has always been one step ahead of the game.

"It's still my job to protect him," he says without preamble and the unspoken addendum is clear: _even from you._

"I know."

Casey grunts and leans one shoulder against the wall. His massive arms resemble large tree branches when he crosses them in front of his chest but she's not intimidated in the least. She doesn't bat an eyelash when he stares at her implacably. She's not afraid of him. He can break every bone in her body but he'll never be able to shatter her heart into a million little pieces. He'll never be able to reduce her to a humiliating, blubbering mess or wound her so deeply even the mention of a name makes her wince on the inside.

"Keep it professional and we shouldn't have any problems," he adds with a grunt. The familiarity of that sound gives her the strength to meet his gaze. She's missed him as a partner.

Shaw is a competent spy but there's just no connection there. She's sure he'll have her back, but it's one thing to assume and another to know. With Casey it was never an issue.

"You got that, Walker?"

Sarah tenses and her eyes narrow slightly. "It won't be an issue."

"Good." He pushes himself off the wall and presses the button for the elevator. They stand in silence and she's really starting to get tired of all the quiet. It's like a shroud falls over every room she enters and every person she tries to speak to. She's never been one for conversation but even she can't stand the tension simmering at a low boil.

They step into the elevator in unison and both turn to face the door at the same time. Casey moves to his corner and she hers. Casey rests against the elevator wall and she stands stiffly, unsure of what she should do or say.

The air is as tense as a rubber band pulled to its breaking point. It's so silent Sarah swears she's adopted supersonic hearing.

But then Casey reaches out and presses the 'Stop' button and the elevator comes to a grinding halt. She eyes him warily and wonders if this was his master plan all along. He's got her where he wants her and there's nowhere for her to escape.

He faces her and stares hard; the kind of stare that can split rocks and burn through walls. What earlier conviction she has evaporates and she just wants to go back to her hotel room and sleep. She's not sure her already overloaded senses can handle another confrontation.

"I don't care what you and the moron do on your own time. I don't care if you fight, screw, play 'Go Fish', or stare longingly at each other from across the room. Frankly, it's none of my business and I have zero desire to get involved in your _feelings_."

The last word is said so distastefully that his grimace is almost comical.

Casey leans forward slightly, using his large bulk to its greatest advantage.

"But keep it out of the mission." A deadly serious look overtakes his face and Sarah feels the blood drain from her face. This is one fight she can't win.

"I didn't want you here." He shifts forward slightly and looms even taller. "And I swear to God, Walker, if you being here, if you being _you_, screws the kid up and gets him hurt, former partner or not, that won't stop me."

Sarah searches for some glimmer of sympathy in his eyes but there is nothing there.

_And what about me? _Why does everyone go about thinking Chuck's the only one with feelings?

She sighs in resignation. This is precisely why she didn't want to come to Rome. Friends tend to take sides in the aftermath of a breakup and unfortunately for Sarah, she lost all of them when she lost Chuck.

If Beckman hadn't threatened to suspend her, she wouldn't have agreed to take the assignment. Neither option was palatable but there's no way she'll risk the one sure thing she has left in her life.

"He's my partner now," Casey informs and it has a definitive tone to it. That's it. The conversation is over now.

She doesn't say anything.

Her former partner presses a button and the elevator resumes.

# # # # #

Sarah's just through the door of her hotel room when she gets a call on her cell. It's five in the freaking morning in DC but then again, why is she surprised?

"How was your briefing?"

_And hello to you too._

She supposes she should appreciate a man that is as straightforward with her as he is. It saves beating around the bush.

"Fine." Sarah pauses to kick off her heels. "We're going to reconvene in the evening."

She collapses onto her freshly made bed and wants nothing more than to bury herself under the covers and wake up in a year.

"And what are you doing now?"

Sarah hesitates before she answers. It's a straightforward question but with Shaw it's never so easy. What he's really asking is: What_ should _you be doing_? _

"I think I'm just going to go through the files again and maybe take a nap." She crosses her fingers and hopes she'll pass the gauntlet. "Maybe I'll go for a run after lunch," she adds for authenticity.

Shaw grunts. "Don't overtire yourself. You've got a big evening ahead of you."

Sarah rolls her eyes. As if she didn't know.

Then again, he's just looking out for her. And he's been in the field longer than she has. He knows better.

"I've already taken the liberty of booking you a flight back tomorrow. First thing in the morning."

Sarah wrinkles her brows. "Oh." Of all emotions, disappointment is strangely the first to come to mind. "You didn't have to do that. I would have liked more time in Rome."

Shaw's tone changes to a warning one. "Why?"

Sarah cycles through all the possible reasons, but she knows none of them will live up to his standards.

"Well, I'll be really tired. I'd like to sleep in a little more before the flight—"

"Just sleep on the plane."

Sarah bites her lip. She tries again. "I haven't been to Rome in years. I was really hoping I could spend a day or two and visit some of the sites again."

And there's still the hope of gelato at the Trevi Fountain.

"Sarah," Shaw warns. "I thought you and I both agreed that this was a business trip."

She suppresses a sigh, knowing the sound will only worsen matters.

"I'll send the flight details to your phone and I'll have someone pick you up from the airport."

Before she can protest and insist on driving herself back to the apartment, there's a knock at the door. It's a courtesy knock only, as the lock clicks and Carina saunters in with a telltale smirk and an identical key-card to Sarah's in her clutches mere seconds later.

_Figures._

"Who's at the door?" Shaw asks, missing nothing.

Sarah's nerves begin to tingle in anticipation. This can't be good.

"_Um…_" She looks helplessly at her friend, desperately pleading with her (by flailing hand signals no less) not to make this harder on her.

"Just housekeeping."

Carina cocks her head to one side and frowns.

"Hello, _Shaw,_" Carina says, purposely raising her voice so that even the next door neighbors would hear if they chose to listen. "I'm taking Sarah out. We're going to have a _really_ good time."

She marches up to Sarah and holds out her hand. "Give me the phone."

"No! Sarah, you have to review the files. Tell Carina to get out of your room."

Sarah's about to respond, but the voices start to overlap one another.

"God weren't you on the phone with him like _two_ hours ago?"

"You promised me you were going to keep things professional—"

"How much conversation can you have with a tree?"

"You know what a poor record Carina has. She's going to drag you down with her—"

"You know what?" she interrupts, then holds out her hand and stops Carina from speaking further.

_Finally._ Some peace and quiet.

Sarah closes her eyes. "You know what, Daniel, I'm going out with my friend. I'll see you tomorrow."

Not daring to wait for a response from Shaw, she turns off the phone and throws it into the sea of blankets.

Sarah looks at Carina in wide-eyed horror.

_What has she done? _

The exhilaration is unmistakable. Sarah laughs at herself and marvels at how her hand, usually so calm and steady, is practically shaking with adrenaline.

She hasn't felt this alive in a long, long time.

Carina gives an approving smile and Sarah laughs again. She can't help herself. She's wanted to do that for weeks now.

"Well…" Sarah gets to her feet and sighs. "If I'm going to have to hear it tomorrow, we might as well make the most of it."

Sarah catches the sad smile that passes across Carina's lips but it's gone as quickly as it came.

"Why do you think Shaw has such a poor impression of me?" her friend asks with a smirk.

Sarah arches a brow and Carina just laughs.

"Yeah…"

# # # # #

They are hardly typical girls but Carina's idea of a good time is surprisingly _normal_. They go for lunch at a neat little bistro near the _Piazza di Spagna_ and then, true-to-character, shopping along one of the most expensive streets in Rome.

It's strange. You don't really know what you've been missing until you get a taste. You learn to live without, to grin and bear it, but now Sarah doesn't know how she's managed to last this long.

She's missed having someone who'll let her be herself instead of the person she's supposed to be.

"Do you get to do this a lot?" Sarah asks, as they look through the racks at a particular store. She's only got one friend, but she's sure Carina could find a replacement for her in under five minutes.

Carina smirks. Getting any information out of her was like trying to pry open a crocodile's jaws.

"Not really," she says. She picks out a dress and holds it out, considering it against her thin frame. "Chuck keeps me pretty busy."

She smiles unapologetically and replaces the dress, moving on. Sarah wishes she could be as blasé about the exchange but she can't. Every time Carina brings up his name, every time she makes that smile, Sarah feels like the earth is going to open up and swallow her whole.

"By the way—"

"Carina—" Sarah tries to stop her but it's futile.

"The sex is really, _really_, good."

Sarah clenches her jaw and does everything in her power not to repeat the night before. Carina can't very well go to the party tonight with a black-eye.

Besides, this is Carina, and she's surprised it's taken her friend an hour before spilling all the gory details of her sex life. This is the Carina-equivalent of showing some restraint.

Carina just laughs at her reaction and moves on. "Hey, what do you think of this one?" She pulls out a plum satin dress with a plunging neckline.

Sarah waits in case her friend has more to say. Like, what do you think of this dress _as Chuck tears it off me?_

"It's nice," she says. The usual noncommittal answer. "Purple isn't really your color though."

Carina smirks. "Not me. You." She extends the dress and waits for her to take it.

Sarah arches a brow. "I already have a dress and I'm supposed to be a wallflower." She takes the dress anyway, only because Carina keeps insisting, but she has no intention of wearing something so revealing for a surveillance mission.

"Fine. Then get it for your boyfriend."

Sarah frowns and returns the dress to the rack. "Shaw isn't really…" She stops just in time before the guilt sets in. "He'll say it's frivolous." Not to mention all the digs he'll make about attracting that sort of attention in public when they're together.

Carina rolls her eyes. "_God_, Sarah," she says in an exasperated tone. "Then get it for me." She smiles. "Consider it a belated birthday gift."

Sarah is slow to smile. She almost doesn't believe it.

Someone…someone actually remembered her birthday?

"Oh don't look at me like that," Carina hisses as she grabs the dress off the rack and pushes it into Sarah's hands.

"I'll probably never wear it," Sarah murmurs, running her hand along the satiny fabric. It would almost be a pity to take it home only to hide it away in the very back of her closet.

Carina shrugs. "You never know. And even if you don't ever wear it, there's no harm in letting him think that you did and you danced with half a dozen sweaty, hot, Italian men at the club—"

Sarah rolls her eyes.

Typical Carina.

# # # # #

Sarah's just finishing the final touches on her make-up when she hears her cell phone go off.

She groans and lets it ring for another few seconds, almost hoping the caller will give up.

_Ha. When Hell freezes over._

Stalking to her bedside, she digs out the phone and is immediately perplexed by the image on the call-screen. For once it's someone she's actually interested in having a conversation with.

"Carina?" she asks and in the half-second silence that ensues, she wonders if her friend's played another trick on her and given her the wrong time again.

But it's simply not possible. Sarah had double-checked—triple-checked—with Casey.

The voice that answers is definitely not Carina's.

"Sarah?"

Sarah's heart falters and she has to hold onto the nightstand to steady herself.

"C-Chuck?" she stutters. Thrown off guard, all her tells become glaringly obvious. She hadn't prepared herself for another confrontation so soon.

Chuck doesn't sound especially overjoyed either. "Hey, Sarah."

"_Um…_hi." Sarah swallows nervously. "What's going on?"

_What's going on?_ her mind chastises. He's calling from Carina's phone for crying out loud.

"There's been a change of plans."

Sarah takes a deep breath. "Okay."

So they didn't need her after all. Well, fine. She can enjoy Rome for the rest of the evening before she has to take the ridiculously early flight out tomorrow.

"I think it would be better if Carina explained it to you," he says. There's some static, some fumbling for the phone, and then it's her friend on the other line.

"Hey, Sarah." The voice is quiet but so distinctly Carina, complete with that beguiling undertone. "You know that thing I got for your birthday?"

Sarah turns and eyes the dress hanging on the closet door. Her stomach does a full somersault.

"_Uh-huh,_" she mumbles.

Carina gives a weak laugh. "Well looks like you're going to be wearing it after all."


End file.
